


Bodies without Hearts

by Anonymous



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-26 15:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for the following (paraphrased) prompt (Round 8): Enjolras cheats on Grantaire. What's the fallout?</p><p>To that end, here's the summary: Enjolras would do anything to get dirt on the Minister of Economy. He ends up doing Jules.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Easy

The man just wouldn’t give in.

Enjolras stood with his hands braced on either side of the bathroom sink, contemplating the water as it spun down the drain. He’d been at this pretentious restaurant for hours. He needed to figure this out. Focus, block everything else out. Be a problem-solver.

Step one: identify the problem.

The problem was Jules Moreau.

Enjolras twisted the water off and ripped a paper towel from the dispenser. Jules Moreau. Stupid, unenlightened, washed out. Content to profit from the misery of others. Boring. Jules was the epitome of the bourgeois bureaucratic functionary, and everything that Enjolras despised on principle.

He also happened to be a personal assistants of Marie Thénardier, the Minister of Economy herself. Jules was in charge of Thénardier’s private schedule; all mediocrity aside, his position alone made him valuable. Enjolras would do anything to get a look at that schedule, to know who Thénardier was really meeting with and when. It stung to know that the schedule was right there, waiting for him, on Jules’ phone. It had been sitting a foot away from Enjolras throughout this entire torturous dinner, nestled deep in Jules’ pocket.

The problem was, Enjolras couldn’t get Jules to unlock the phone for him. No matter how much Enjolras charmed and wheedled and flirted, no matter what excuses Enjolras made, Jules just smiled nervously and changed the subject. He hadn’t even let Enjolras use his phone when Enjolras had let his own phone die and asked to borrow Jules’ to call his sick mother.

So. Step two: brainstorm solutions.

Enjolras studied himself in the mirror. He wasn’t stupid; he knew how he looked. Sometimes it seemed like he spent half his time trying to get people to take him seriously. His looks, however, could also be an advantage. Enjolras had been _running into_ Jules _randomly_ at the coffee shop Jules frequented for weeks now. He’d spent more than a month wearing his tightest jeans and making sure his hair curled across his forehead _just so_ , laughing at unfunny jokes and batting his eyelashes.

And it worked. Jules had seemed disbelieving at first, if flattered, but he’d come around. Two days ago, Jules had asked him out. Enjolras had graciously accepted, his blandest smile glued firmly to his face.

Jules, of course, noticed nothing. He didn’t even know Enjolras’ real name.

That’s why Enjolras thought this would be easy. He figured he could drop a few hints about how sexy he found powerful men, and Jules would trip over himself to show Enjolras everything he wanted to see. That hadn’t happened yet.

Jules was close, though. Enjolras was sure of it. He could see it in the way Jules’ eyes darted downwards every time Enjolras mentioned the government. In the way Jules’ hand twitched toward his pocket whenever Enjolras said he’d always wanted to date someone important.

How could Enjolras push him over the edge?

Maybe if Enjolras offered evidence that he was telling the truth. Actions speak louder than words, and Enjolras was a man of action. People are stupid anyway – even more stupid than normal – about who they take into their beds. That could work, if Enjolras were smart about it.

Besides, he was out of ideas. He needed this information as soon as possible. People’s lives hung in the balance. This was important.  

Which led neatly to step three: pick a solution.

Enjolras licked his lips and checked his hair in the mirror. He took a moment to straighten his shirt and walked back into the dim light of the restaurant. Jules was right were Enjolras had left him, his pale skin glowing gold in the flickering candlelight. His sandy hair looked wavy and soft, and his shirt brought out the green in his hazel eyes. Whatever else he was, Jules was a handsome man.  

Yeah. He could do this. It definitely wouldn’t be the worst thing he’d ever done in the name of justice.

Working to make his movements smooth and elegant, he trailed a hand across Jules’ shoulders before he slid into his seat. Now it was time for the fourth and final step: implement the solution.

“I hate to be so forward,” Enjolras said. He ran his foot lightly up the inside of Jules’ leg. Jules jumped in his seat. A genuine smile crossed Enjolras’ face, and his heart beat faster. “But I was just thinking…would you like to end dinner a little early? Maybe go back to mine?” Classic battle tactics; know the battlefield better than your enemy.

Jules’ eyes widened. “Really? Uh, yeah. I mean, of course.”

Enjolras tried to sound playful. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Jules reached over the small table, holding Enjolras’ right hand in both of his. “It’s just…I’m wondering how I got so lucky. You’re gorgeous and sweet. And you want to take me home with you. It’s surreal.”

Enjolras fought to keep from laughing. No one had ever called him sweet before. Ever.  

“I don’t usually do this,” said Enjolras. “But I’m willing to make an exception. For you.” He leaned across the table until his chest was hovering over the remains of his eggplant parmesan and lowered his voice. “And I’m really curious about what you do. Maybe we could talk about that more. When we get to my apartment.”

Jules swallowed. “Whatever you want.”

They walked hand-in-hand back to Enjolras’ apartment. Enjolras unlocked the deadbolt with steady hands and walked in, Jules hot on his heels. The door had barely clicked shut before Jules had him pushed up against it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” said Jules, his breath hot on Enjolras’ face, their noses almost touching.

“You’ve got what I want,” Enjolras said back, because it was true. Then he crossed the distance between them and kissed Jules, hard.

Jules grunted but responded in kind, crowding Enjolras against the door and cupping Enjolras’ face in his hands. Enjolras let himself be crowded. His role here was to cede power, or, rather, to appear to cede power. It was all part of the game.

Enjolras reached down and brushed his hand over Jules’ dick. When Jules inhaled sharply, Enjolras pushed harder before shifting his hand to palm at Jules’ pocket. He pressed his hand against the phone.

“Do you want to play with me, Jules?” he said softly, almost out of breath. “You be the minister and I’ll be the naïve young assistant. What do you say?” To seal the deal, Enjolras pushed his thigh between Jules’ legs and pushed up. “It’d be so hot. And I’d be so good for you.” He dipped his head and kissed a trail up Jules’ throat. “Please?”

Jules shivered under his hands. “Yes. God, yes.”

Enjolras smiled, confident that Jules either wouldn’t notice his triumph or wouldn’t care. He slipped the phone out of Jules’ pocket and held it between them. “Gotta have my props, right? Unlock it.”

Jules stared at the phone, uncomprehending. “Why.”

Enjolras shook his head like the question was silly and kissed Jules again for good measure. “I want to do this right. Look the part. You’ll do this for me, right?”

Jules nodded slowly, looking dazed. “Yeah. Of course I will.” He took the phone from Enjolras, punched in the passcode, and handed it back.

Dizzy with elation, Enjolras pulled Jules closer and kissed him again, deep and filthy. He’d done it. He’d succeeded. And Jules wasn’t so bad, really. He’d helped the cause, even if he didn’t know it. If Enjolras backed out now it would look suspicious.

“I’m going to my bedroom,” said Enjolras when he finally broke away. “Count to one hundred and follow me. I’ll be ready for you by then.”

Without waiting for an answer – he knew Jules would do anything he asked – Enjolras flew to his bedroom and shut the door. He searched quickly through Jules’ apps until he found Thénardier’s calendar and downloaded the entire file into the dropbox he’d set up earlier. While the file was loading, he stripped off his pants and jacket, unbuttoned his white dress shirt, and put on his glasses, the thick, black ones. Then he scrambled to his desk, sitting as the file finished loading.

Enjolras closed the program just as Jules came through the door. Feeling giddy, he crossed his legs and leaned back in the chair. “Why, hello, Mr. Moreau. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Jules gaped at him from the doorway, his fair skin flushing red.

It was so easy.

“You look stressed,” Enjolras said with mock seriousness. He stood up and put the phone on his desk. Jules didn’t notice. “Maybe I can help with that.”

He sank to his hands and knees, then crawled over to Jules, exaggerating the shift of his hips as he moved. When he reached Jules, he rose to his knees and looked up through his lashes. “Like this, Mr. Moreau?” He reached up to grasp Jules’ zipper.

Jules let out a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, God. You’ll ruin me.”

Enjolras undid the zipper and pulled Jules’ hardening dick out of his pants. “That’s the plan,” he said. He took the head of Jules’ dick in his mouth and sucked gently. Jules moaned, loud.

Enjolras had only had one glass of wine at dinner, but he still felt drunk. Neither of them was going to last long tonight.   

 

* * *

 

Enjolras woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a ringing phone. He stumbled out of bed and began rooting through the pile of discarded clothes on the floor. By the time he’d located the slacks he’d worn the night before, the ringing had stopped.

He checked the screen. It was Grantaire.

Enjolras closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he said. How could he forget?

His phone beeped to tell him that Grantaire had left a message. He pressed play.

_Hey, Enj. It’s Grantaire. Obviously. Anyway, just seeing if you wanted to meet up today. I was thinking last night and realized I haven’t seen you in, like, a week. I feel like a war widow. So, anyway, call me back. I miss you. And love you. Clearly. Uh, bye._

Enjolras lowered the phone slowly and sat on his bed. He looked down at himself. He was completely naked.

How was he going to explain this to Grantaire?


	2. Truth

Indecision kept Enjolras quiet for days. He knew he had to tell Grantaire – that was only right – but he didn’t know how.

He had to make Grantaire understand. It wasn’t about betrayal or disloyalty or wanting someone else. It was a choice, yes, but a necessary one. A necessary evil. And it definitely hadn’t been in vain. Combeferre couldn’t stop raving about the information. It was a goldmine.

That line of reasoning, however, was beginning to seem uncomfortably thin. When faced with the prospect of actually saying the words to Grantaire, Enjolras felt a little sick. Grantaire was fragile on the best of days. A logical resolution seemed unlikely.

Enjolras made a conscious effort to keep his hands still in his lap. He’d cleaned most of his apartment out of nerves, and now the place looked unnaturally clean. Suspiciously clean. Enjolras took a deep breath and wondered if he should scatter some newspaper over the coffee table.

Before he could make up his mind, Grantaire knocked once on the door. Enjolras waited for him to enter. Enjolras had given him a key months ago.

Time to tell the truth.

“Hey,” said Grantaire, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

Enjolras glanced at his own hands. Grantaire looked amazing. Maybe he wasn’t what most people would call handsome, not like Jules, but he was something even better; he was interesting. Dark hair, dark eyes. A hawk-like nose, one full of character. Warm skin, crisscrossed by scars and moles and hair.

“Did your parents visit?” asked Grantaire. He took off his jacket and flung it over the back of a chair. “It’s so clean in here.”

“No.”

“Okay.” Grantaire sauntered over to the couch and sat heavily. He leaned over and kissed Enjolras on the corner of the mouth. “I’m glad you asked me over. You’ve been so busy.” With one rough finger, Grantaire turned Enjolras’ head towards him. He kissed him again, full on the mouth.

Enjolras jerked to his feet. “I need to talk to you,” he said quickly. “Before anything else happens.”

Grantaire stared up at him, the smile sliding off his face.

Enjolras paced to the other side of the coffee table. Turning around was difficult. He’d never found it this hard to meet someone’s eyes before. “You know what I’ve been doing lately?”

“Uh, in general, yeah,” said Grantaire. “Something about Thénardier. Trying to take her down. Protect those who can’t protect themselves. The usual.”

Enjolras nodded. His hands tightened convulsively behind his back. “Right. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her calendar. That was my job. My mission.”

“Your mission,” Grantaire repeated slowly.

“Yes.” Enjolras tried to keep his voice matter-of-fact. “Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and I found a weak link in her camp. One of her assistants. I’ve been…I’ve been spending a lot of time with him recently. Trying to get information, you understand. That was always the point, always the goal. That information was vital. I had to get it. I had to.”

“Oh, Enjolras,” whispered Grantaire. He leaned back against the couch cushions, muscles tight. “What did you do?”

“I had a chance, a few nights ago. So I took it. He unlocked his phone for me and I got everything I needed. Everything _we_ needed. It’s going to help a lot of people, Grantaire.” Enjolras was aware he had descended into pleading, but he couldn’t stop.

“What was your chance?” Grantaire asked.

Enjolras paused, mouth open. The words just wouldn’t come out. They were there, but stuck, way back in his throat.

Grantaire asked again. “What was your chance, Enjolras?”

Enjolras forced himself to say it. “I slept with him.”

There was a moment of silence. Enjolras stood where he was, not sure whether he should say anything else.

Finally, Grantaire spoke. “You slept with someone,” he said calmly, “for a calendar?”

“For information,” Enjolras corrected. “Important information. I wouldn’t have done it otherwise, I swear.”

“So it was for a good cause?” asked Grantaire.

Enjolras took a step forward. “Yes. None of it meant anything. That’s why I decided to tell you. I wanted to be honest.”

“Huh.” Grantaire ran his tongue over his teeth. “Okay.” He stood up and ran the palms of his hands over his jeans. “That’s…okay. Okay.”

Enjolras exhaled loudly. He pressed down roughly on the hope welling inside him, scared of feeling relief too soon. “So you understand?”

“You know, I think I do.” Grantaire looked around the room, then at Enjolras. “Excuse me for a second.”

Without another word, Grantaire walked into the apartment’s little bathroom and shut the door.

Enjolras stared at the closed door. That was not how he thought that was going to go. He’d expected anger, yelling, maybe crying. A meltdown. He’d been prepared for a meltdown. This was better? Maybe.

Only a few moments passed before Grantaire was coming out of the bathroom. Instead of coming back to Enjolras, though, he turned toward the bedroom. Enjolras unstuck his feet from the ground and followed.

He found Grantaire rummaging through the closet.

Enjolras felt his heart flutter in his chest. “What are you doing?”

Grantaire didn't look up. “Do you know where my blue jacket is?”

“It’s in the hamper.”

Grantaire moved to the hamper and pulled out his jacket. Then he got on his hands and knees, reached under the bed, and pulled out a backpack he’d left at Enjolras’ a while ago.

“I knew I left this here,” he muttered.

“Grantaire,” said Enjolras. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m getting my stuff.” Grantaire crammed the jacket into the backpack, then pulled a toothbrush, the one he kept at Enjolras’, out of his back pocket and dropped that in the backpack too. When he was done, he stood up, looked around, and frowned. “Weird. I thought there was more.”

“Wait,” said Enjolras. This was not good. Calm was not better. “What’s happening? Talk to me, please.”

“I’m doing us both a favor, Enjolras,” Grantaire said. He took the key to Enjolras’ apartment from his pocket and laid it on the bed. “What’s happening is called a breakup. They happen all the time.”


	3. Breakup

“What? Just…what?” Enjolras leaned heavily against the door jamb. “Breakup?”

“Yeah,” said Grantaire. “You were expecting this, right? Otherwise your apartment wouldn’t be so clean.”

Enjolras rubbed his hand over his mouth. “I expected to talk about it! What are you thinking? I can’t make anything up to you if I don’t know what you're thinking.”

Grantaire swung the backpack over his shoulder. “I already told you what’s happening.”

“Grantaire, please.”

Grantaire looked at Enjolras for a long moment. Then he sighed and let the backpack fall back on the bed.

“Fine," he said. "It’s not that you slept with someone else. Not really. I mean, it’s not like I’m totally opposed, and if you’d just…whatever. That’s not important. The important part is what it means.”

Yes. Grantaire was talking. Enjolras pulled himself off the door jamb. “What does it mean?”

“That we have different priorities,” said Grantaire. “I put you first. You put your mission first. Mission, by the way, is a fucking stupid thing to call it." He took a breath. "I’m actually surprised it took this long for something like this to happen. We’ve been together for, what, eight months now? And it’ll happen again.”

Enjolras walked forward as Grantaire talked until his shins hit the bed. He and Grantaire stood opposite each other, the bed between them. “No. You make it sound like you don’t mean anything to me. That’s the furthest thing from the truth. I love you.”

Grantaire let out a shaky breath, a small smile crossing his face. His crooked teeth were barely visible between his thin lips. Enjolras loved those teeth. “I know you do. Doesn’t mean much though, does it?”

“It does!”

“Really? Then you regret what you did? If you had the chance to do it all over, you would choose not to sleep with that guy?”

Enjolras spluttered awkwardly. “What was I supposed to do, Taire? If there was another way to get the job done in a reasonable amount of time, I would have done that. This isn’t about what I wanted, it’s about what I had to do. You and me, we’re separate from that.”

“Are you serious?” Grantaire grabbed the backpack off the bed and settled it back on his shoulder. Enjolras winced. “Did you even think of me? Of how I would feel?”

Panic bubbled under the surface of Enjolras’ skin. He had no answer.

“Right,” said Grantaire. “Well, I’ll tell you how I feel. Like an idiot. Pissed off. Insignificant. I don’t want to feel this way. Do you get that?”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras whispered.

“I know my self-esteem hasn’t been the greatest,” Grantaire continued. “But it’s not bad enough for me to stick around for this. You are who you are, Enj. You’re not going to change. I’m not either. This whole relationship was a mistake from the start.”

Everything Grantaire said was technically accurate, but none of it felt true. 

“You’re too pretty,” Grantaire said. “And I'm too weak.”

His stride purposeful, Grantaire rounded the bed and brushed past Enjolras on his way to the door.

Enjolras spun around. “We aren't a mistake.”

Grantaire had already made it to the living room, but he stopped anyway, his back still to Enjolras.

“I made a mistake,” said Enjolras. His face felt numb and his eyes stung. He felt hot and cold and the same time. “And maybe I’m a mistake too. But you weren’t a mistake. We aren't. Weren't.” He blinked hard. “I’m sorry that I’m…the way I am. I really do love you.”

Grantaire turned slowly. He came back to Enjolras and stopped just in front of him.

“No, no,” Grantaire said softly. He touched Enjolras’ cheek, just under his eye. “You cheated on me. You don’t get to cry.”

Enjolras raised his hand to his face. It came away wet. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” said Grantaire. Enjolras looked at him, and then looked away. It hurt to see the hurt on Grantaire’s face.

“What now?” Enjolras asked. “I won’t know what to do without you.”

Grantaire sighed. “Yes, you will. You don’t like losing your things, but soon you'll be busy. You'll forget about me again. It’s only a matter of time.”

Enjolras couldn’t keep his hand from going to his chest. That one hurt.

“Don’t look so sad,” Grantaire said. Enjolras could tell he was trying to be reassuring. Grantaire was such a good person. “This would have happened eventually. Better now than after we got more serious.”

“No. No, you’re right,” said Enjolras. “I’d hoped that maybe…” He trailed, unsure what he hoped for.

Grantaire grabbed his jacket off the chair. When he’d gathered all his things, he reached for the front door. Enjolras watched him every step of the way.

Everything had happened so fast. His whole life, completely changed in less than ten minutes. There should be some sort of law against that. How was a person supposed to live in a world where things like this just happen just _happen_?

But then, this didn’t just happen. Losing Grantaire was going to be hard, maybe the hardest thing Enjolras had ever done. But losing the Amis, the cause – that would be unimaginable.

Grantaire hesitated before crossing the threshold. He looked over his shoulder. “I might not be around for a while. Just so you know. Seeing you at all is going to be way too hard. For a long time, I think.”

Enjolras nodded, miserable and guilty. “Where’re you going?”

“I don’t know. Anywhere, everywhere, wherever.”

“Will I see you again?”

Grantaire pressed his lips together. “Couldn’t stay away if I tried. But it’s gonna be a while. My problem is pretty much the opposite of yours. And before you ask me what that means, no, I will not explain myself. I would like to leave here with some dignity.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“See you around, Enjolras.”

Grantaire walked out.

Enjolras concentrated on breathing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. He scrolled through his contacts and hit the call button.

“Combeferre? Grantaire and I broke up.”


End file.
